


Epilogue

by eunoise



Category: Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
Genre: Gen, This was written for an English project
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:18:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eunoise/pseuds/eunoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George looked at his hand of cards and played with the edge of the ten of hearts. With a small smile on his face he said, “Nah. Sorry kid, go fish.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written as an English project. As you can see from the title, it was to write an epilogue for Of Mice and Men (essentially, my project was to write fanfiction) and I thought I'd just post this here for the hell of it.

Epilogue

 

A lone figure walked on the dusty road leading away from the ranch. On either side of the road were the pastures closed off by fencing with fading whitewash exposing the wood underneath. In the pastures, the sheep and cows grazed lazily on the green and yellow grass. As the figure walked slowly along the road, the pastures faded away and gradually turned into woods. The branches of the trees blocked off some of the light from the afternoon sun high in the air. An uncharacteristically cool breeze prevented George from enjoying any of the warmth of the sun and he pulled his thin, worn jacket in tighter.

 

George walked with no direction in mind other than forward. In his pocket was a hat too big for his head, fifty dollars, and the work slip he got when he went into town yesterday. Along his shoulders he slung his bedroll. Yesterday afternoon he finally quit working at the ranch, unwilling to spend yet another second in that place.

 

It was silent along the road, save for the sounds of twittering birds, leaves of the trees rustling in the breeze, flies buzzing around his head, and his own dragging footsteps.

 

“If I didn’t have you, I could do anything I wanted. I could finally get to keep a job and not have to clean up every single mess you made.” George’s voice, hoarse from lack of use, broke the silence. “I could spend my money anyway I damn pleased. I could stay in hotels and order anything I wanted and not have to worry about you. Hell, if I really wanted, I could take my money at the end of the month and spend all of it in a cathouse. God, Lennie,” he said ruefully, “You sure did mess up this time, didn’t ya?”

 

George did not hear sniveling. He did not hear whimpering offers to go live in a cave. He does not here anything other his own footsteps and the buzzing of flies around his head.

 

George continued his walk until the sun began to set in the sky there was only a strip of light above the horizon. He sets up camp in a clearing in the middle of the trees and starts a campfire. By then, the sun had disappeared behind the mountains and the sky was painted with violets and pinks and oranges. George almost took out two cans of beans from his bag and sat down on a log for dinner.

 

“Don’t know why you’re so upset.” he said to himself, eating a spoonful of his beans. “This is what you wanted, right? No one to take care of, no one to stop you from doing what you wanted when you wanted, no one getting you run out of places. ‘S first time I got to stay in one place for longer than a month since God knows when. Don't need no one and no one needs me. I'm my own man now.”

 

He finished his can of beans in silence.

 

The next morning he arrived at the ranch in Greenfield. He walked to the door of the big house, on the way catching the eye of a few of the other workers. Some waved, others nodded at him, but for the most part they ignored him. He walked up the front porch and knocked on the hardwood door. A minute later a woman opens it. She had a no-nonsense expression on her plain face. Her pale cotton dress hung off her like a she was a scarecrow.

 

“Hello, Ma’am. Name’s George Milton. ‘M here to work.” He holds out his work slip.

 

She looked faintly surprised, “Wasn’t expecting you till tomorrow.” She took the slip from his hand and looked it over.

 

“Are you in charge here?” George asked. Her eyes snapped to his face and she glared at him.

“Yeah.” She said brusquely. “You got a problem with that?” she asked. He shook his head and quickly replied, “No, Ma’am.” She looked at him for a moment before turning her attention to something behind him.  

 

“John!” she called out. George looked behind him and saw a young man in a straw hat carrying a push broom. He ran up the porch and stopped next to George.

 

“Yes, Mary?” he asks.

 

“Show the new guy the ropes. Got things I need to do.” She told him then closed the door. John turned to look at George.

 

“Such a pleasant woman. Don’t ya think?”

 

“Heard that.” Her voice was muffled by the door.

 

“Anyway,” John lead George off the porch, “’M John, nice to meet ya, George. Welcome to the Miller Farm. Over to the left are the fields. Next to that is where we put the animals out to graze. That big red building over there is the farm.” They walked into a long, wooden building. “And here’s the bunkhouse. You can take this bed here and-” he stopped abruptly and yelled towards the corner, “Kid get outta here! How many times do we got to tell you to keep out of the bunkhouse?” A small boy with eyes to big for his head with a familiar look in them and limbs too long for his body got up from a dark corner of the room where George couldn’t see him. He looked up at George for a minute then scurried out.

 

“Who’s the kid?” George asked, setting his few possessions on an empty bed.

 

“That’s Charlie, Mary’s kid. Always pops out of nowhere while us guys are working and scares the hell out of everyone. Kid caused more than one accident, nearly broke Frank’s leg a couple weeks ago. We keep telling him to get lost but it never seems to get through his thick skull.”

 

George stared at the spot Charlie was hiding and remembered the look in the kid’s eyes. “There’s no need to be so harsh on ‘im. He’s probably lonely or somethin’.”

 

John snorts, “Lonely or not, we don’t need him getting hurt on our watch or Mary’ll give us hell and we don’t need him messing around and getting us dead. Kid’s a walking disaster.”

 

George saw Charlie every so often while he was at the ranch, usually in the background while he and the other ranchers were working. When the others saw him they sent him away but when it was only George who saw Charlie he never said anything, once giving Charlie a small smile which caused Charlie’s blank expression to brighten.

 

After that, Charlie followed George around everywhere. At first, George didn’t mind but the kid could really talk your ear off and he distracted George from his work a couple of times, which Mary didn’t appreciate. Soon George was sick and tired of Charlie but couldn’t bring himself to tell him off.

 

“Hi there, Mr. George!” Charlie greeted. George responded with a tired, “Hello, Charlie.” Night had fallen and the stars shone brightly in the sky. George sat alone underneath an electric lamp outside the bunkhouse away from the loud ranchers inside and played a game of solitaire. Charlie sat next to George who just wanted to be left alone.

 

“What’re you doin?” Charlie asked.  

 

“Playin’ solitaire.” George said, looking for a red two and trying to ignore Charlie’s presence.

 

“Can I play too?”

 

“No. You’re supposed to play it alone.”

 

“Oh.” Charlie said, not noticing the sharp tone of George’s voice.

 

“Kid, it’s late. Shouldn’t you be in bed or somethin’?” George asked.

 

“I wanted to play.”

 

“Well why don’t you play with some kid your own age?” George snapped. “Or with your mama or your granddad or anyone else? Can’t ya tell when no one wants ya around?” Charlie looked away from George. He was silent.

 

Finally, Charlie spoke up. “There ain't no kid my age for miles and mama's always busy and granddad don't remember who I am no matter how many times I tell him and all the workers don't want me around. I don't want to mess with them or nothing. I didn’t mean to hurt Mr. Frank.” Charlie’s voice warbled. George tightened his grip on the five of clubs. “I just want to sit in the corner when they play cards but they kick me out. Only things that want me around are the animals but mama doesn't want me in the barn no more after that horse almost kicked me in the head. You was nice to me so I thought maybe you would want me around. Guess I was wrong.” He said sadly. “Sorry Mr. George. I ain’t gonna bother you no more.” Charlie got up.

 

George sighed. “Kid, wait.”

 

Charlie sat back down. George gathered his cards and reshuffled them.

 

”Here,” George handed Charlie seven cards. “Ya know how to play Go Fish?”

 

Charlie looked at him with wide eyes. Slowly, a smile appeared on his face and he nodded his head. “Ya got any tens?”

 

George looked at his hand of cards and played with the edge of the ten of hearts. With a small smile on his face he said, “Nah. Sorry kid, go fish.” 


End file.
